


I Hope He Is a Gentleman

by J (j_writes)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've come to collect my guitarist."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hope He Is a Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pearl_o.

When Pete finds him, Joe is slumped against the back wall of the club, giggling, some guy with blue hair kissing his neck.

"Pete!" he says, beaming. "Pete Wentz! My very favorite Pete!" His hand wraps around Pete's wrist and pulls him in, close enough that he's bumping up against the guy molesting Joe's neck, close enough he can feel Joe pressed up warm against his side. "Pete, this is..." he looks blank for a second, then grins again. "This is my new friend!"

New Friend's eyes flicker up in acknowledgement, then he goes back to biting at Joe's earlobe, making Joe melt against Pete a little, fingers twitching around Pete's wrist.

"Hi, New Friend," says Pete as Joe tips his head, resting it against Pete's shoulder. He can feel Joe's breath coming in quick pants against his skin through his shirt. "I've come to collect my guitarist," he says, and sets about trying to pry the guy off Joe. It proves to be a little less successful than he'd hoped, mostly because the guy is pretty clingy, and a little because Joe doesn't seem completely on board with the plan.

"Can't I keep him?" he asks Pete, and oh _man_ he looks young when he's begging.

"Sure," Pete says easily. "As long as you're willing to kick Patrick or Andy out of the band. There's only so much room in the van, you know."

Joe nods thoughtfully, distractedly rubbing his thumb along the waistband of New Friend's jeans. "How about you?" he asks. "Can we kick you out instead?"

Pete reaches out to peel Joe's hand away. "You three wouldn't survive two days on the road without me," he says. "Say goodbye to your friend," he prompts, and apparently Joe grew up in a world where making out is an appropriate goodbye, because he plasters himself against New Friend and sticks his tongue down his throat.

Joe, it turns out, is a _really_ good kisser.

Pete watches for a few minutes, seeing the way that New Friend melts against Joe, hearing the tiny noises he makes as Joe slips a thigh between his legs and rocks against him.

"Ok!" Pete says loudly, tugging at Joe's arm. "Bye, New Friend!" he calls back over his shoulder as he steers Joe away. Joe waves back before Pete stuffs him out the door. Outside, it's cold enough that Pete can see his breath in front of his face, and all he wants is to climb into the van and crank up the heat, but Joe stops, leaning against the wall of the club.

"You don't want me to have any fun, do you?" he asks sadly.

"I don't want you to do stupid things," Pete corrects him.

Joe smiles distantly. "He was hot. That makes it not stupid."

Pete sighs. "You're a kid, Joe. You're a drunk kid in a band, in a city you don't know, and if you think that someday some guy--hot or not--isn't going to decide to take advantage of that, then you're a bigger idiot than even _I_ was at your age. And that's saying something!"

Joe crosses his arms. "Maybe that's what I want, ever think of that? Maybe they're not the only ones taking advantage. Maybe," he moves closer to Pete, poking him in the chest, "I don't really love getting interrupted by some asshole bassist every time I might get the chance to get off with someone who isn't my own hand."

His cheeks are red, from the cold, from the alcohol, from embarrassment, and Pete _really_ wants to kiss him.

"_Fuck_," he says instead, turning away. "Fuck it, do what you want."

Joe bends up off the wall and drapes himself over Pete's back. "What I want?" he repeats. "_Anything_ I want?"

Pete shrugs. "I'm not your mom."

"No," Joe agrees. "You're too short to be my mom." He reaches over Pete's shoulder to pull his hands up, wrapping his own fingers around them and breathing warmly against them. "Plus, you have a dick," he adds after a minute.

Pete laughs. "Yeah," he agrees. "I definitely do." And it's getting more and more interested each time Joe's lips bump against his skin as he breathes.

"You know," Joe says, letting Pete's hands go, his breath settling against the back of Pete's neck instead, "you could make me less stupid."

"Yeah, I've been trying," Pete says dryly.

"No, I mean..." Then it's his lips instead of his voice against Pete's throat, his mouth open and startlingly warm, settling over Pete's pulse and sucking.

"Oh holy _fuck_," Pete gasps, pushing away from Joe.

Joe's face falls. "Or not," he says, looking down and kicking at the asphalt.

"Joe," Pete says, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep for reaching for him. "You're a kid. You're a kid and you're drunk, and you remember those asshole guys I was telling you about? Well I'm one of them."

"Yeah," Joe agrees. "You kind of are an asshole. I mean, when a guy's jealous enough to keep you from hooking up with _everyone ever_, and then won't put out when you finally try to hook up with _him_ instead, which was what you'd rather have been doing the whole time? Yeah, that's a pretty asshole move."

"I wasn't--" Pete begins, but Joe looks at him pointedly until he stops. "Ok, yeah. Maybe I was a _little_ jealous."

Joe nods. "I know," he says wisely, and this time his kiss lands on Pete's lips, warm and soft and wrapping his hand around the back of Pete's neck so he can't pull away. "I lied," he says when he finally pulls back to breathe.

"About what?" Pete asks, his eyes darting down to watch the way Joe licks his lips before he speaks.

"I'd never kick you out of the band," Joe says, leaning in to kiss him again. Pete kisses back this time, his teeth closing on Joe's lip, catching his tiny moan with his mouth. When he pulls back, Joe's eyes are dark and a little unfocused.

"The whole time?" Pete asks, and Joe nods.

"Since I met you," he says. Then he grins. "Even if you _are_ kind of a dirty old man."


End file.
